


Working Girl

by spoky



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 13:52:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11037510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoky/pseuds/spoky
Summary: DISCLAIMER: This story is RPF, meaning that I use the star image of real people to tell a completely fictional story. It's not meant to offend or insult anyone. Please do not share my fiction with the people I write about on social media or otherwise. Thank you. (For full disclaimer, please see my profile.)Sharon gets jealous and takes it on Katya.





	Working Girl

 

According to the well informed opinion of Miss. Sharon Needles, Instagram could be described to be two things: the epitome of self-indulgent narcissism, or alternatively, a window to a person’s often overtly glamorised self-representation. Alaska Thunderfuck’s account was undeniably both, but additionally it functioned as a marketing platform. The fact that her highness had now crossed the line from shameless self-promotion to whoring for love made Sharon cringe. Admittedly, not many would realise Alaska’s faux pas, but to Sharon it was obvious.

She threw the half empty bottle of makeup remover back into her bag and swore under her breath. What had possessed Alaska to publish that video on social media, Sharon would never know or understand. She wiggled out of her dress and kept glancing at her phone, as if expecting the technology to explain her ex’s inconceivable behaviour. Sharon could appreciate the merits of Instagram, but sometimes the visual digital reality proved to be slightly too much for her to handle. It provided information and evidence of occurrences and events she’d rather been unaware of - such as drag on Aspen Gay Ski Week 2017.

Sharon folded the wig she’d been wearing back into its net and kicked her stilettos closer to the suitcase. One glance at the mirror revealed an upset looking man with some traces of purple lipstick on his lower lip. He really needed a better makeup remover.

Whether Sharon had a right to be upset over the Aspen videos was not relevant. He was upset regardless of his rights - or lack thereof - to feel anger, frustration or jealousy over Miss Thunderfuck. He was not in charge of his emotions. He didn’t consciously produce them and hence refused any responsibility in their existence.

He wanted a drink. _Needed_ a drink.  
  
After erasing the rest of the traces of Miss Needles on his body, Sharon walked into the club through the backdoor and scanned the audience, which fortunately was way too engaged with the show to pay him much of attention.

“Double whisky and a PBR,” he placed his order with the surprised bartender and pulled out his phone. He couldn’t stop watching it, the video of Alaska dancing in some hotel hallway in a bleach white towel. The recording was old, but just now Sharon had been sent the links. The camerawork was ridiculously shaky. He clicked back to the second video, the more infuriating one, and watched Katya Zamolodchikova giggle as she played with a red, glittery phone and then, Sharon knew it was coming, he heard Alaska’s quiet whisper: _“I wanna kiss you … in a hallway in Aspen.”_ He grimaced and swiped the screen shut before stuffing the damn device back into his pocket. The video was driving him insane.

Sharon grabbed the whisky and downed it, hoping that the burning ethanol would erase the memories of his own first few encounters with Alaska. Miss Thundefuck had developed the habit to begin her flirtation under the pretences of joking very early. It was her brand defence-mechanism, a way to keep the back door open, always prepared for rejection. _“I’m joking, obviously.”_ Because back in those days, Alaska got rejected a lot. _A lot._ She had never grown out of the habit and Sharon knew it, and now he had to witness it on social media. It was infuriating.  
  
“Another?” he called to the bartender and tapped the empty glass.

The whisky was gone almost as soon as the glass hit the bar top, and Sharon’s lip curled as he exhaled what felt like varnish remover. He cursed himself inwardly for not specifying his liquor. He was now sure he was drinking well-whisky, something his head wouldn’t exactly thank him for in the morning. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

It was ridiculous to be jealous, and Sharon knew it. That's what pissed him off. Alaska had every right to be happy and fool around; to do whatever she wanted with whomever she wanted to. But Katya? Sharon just couldn't see it. Or rather, she could see it. _Fucking Instagram_. But he couldn’t believe it. _Fucking Alaska_.

He downed the fourth whisky. _Third?_ And glanced around at the bar. Someone tapped him on the shoulder and asked for a selfie. He made face at the flash and groped the fan’s ass before the man was snatched back into the safety of his stout boyfriend. Sharon let him go without a fight. The boyfriend had probably forty pounds on him of what looked like pure muscle. There would be other race chasers in the venue if he felt like taking that route.  

The bar was getting more crowded and Sharon wondered whether he should just go back to the hotel as he didn’t actually feel like chatting up anyone. Sure, he would’ve liked his dick sucked, but at the same time he was probably too annoyed at Alaska to even get it up. _Fucking Alaska_. He stood up and as he had to take a step to his left to catch his balance, he realised he had probably had little more than what he had intended to. Grabbing the glass of water the bartender had pushed his way earlier, he slowly took command of his body.  
  
Sharon was sipping the water as he made his way through the crowd towards the dressing room. He would need a taxi to get all of his stuff with him and as he pushed the dressing room door open, he spotted a certain Russian hooker in front of the dresser reserved for supporting acts. She was dressed in all red, from the curve of her upper lip to the bottom of her sparkly stilettos. Sharon slammed the door shut behind him and stared at Katya, who startled at the bang. She met Sharon’s gaze through the mirror in front of her.

“Oh, it’s you,” Katya chuckled. She had thought the entire building was coming down. Then again, with Sharon Needles, that was a real possibility.  
  
“Yes. Me,” Sharon said and gave Katya a quick once-over. What did Alaska see in her? Sure, her long blond curls framed her beautiful face gracefully before dropping to her shoulders -- but when, exactly _when_ , had Alaska started to fancy that? Sharon had always considered himself too scrawny for Alaska’s tastes, and now she was fixated to this compact thing? Sharon couldn’t understand it even as she was examining Katya right now. She was wearing lipstick so outrageously red that it probably matched with the one worn by the downtown nightwalkers. Sharon smirked. Katya really did look like the average run-of-the-mill transvestite hooker - and whores should be treated as such. 

He walked behind her and stepped close, trapping her in between himself and the dressing table. He grabbed her long curls into a tight hold at her neck and yanked her head back, against his right shoulder. Katya cried out, half of surprise, half of pain.

“Would you explain this to me?” Sharon asked in low baritone.

“Explain what?” Katya winced. She was confused, not only about Sharon’s words but even more so about the hard bulge she could feel pressing against her backside. Sharon smelled of alcohol and cigarettes, but Katya couldn’t tell how much he had been drinking, just that he had. He seemed coherent enough.

“This,” Sharon said, surprisingly calmly, and took out his phone. He lifted it for Katya to see and played her a collection of videos from Instagram.  
  
Katya raised her eyebrows as the video ended. That was it? Sharon was jealous? She wanted to smirk, but kept her amusement hidden. Two could play this game and she had the upper hand; not only was she sober, she additionally had no emotional investments to the situation. Katya had actually had the pleasure to meet the surprisingly average looking Asian guy Alaska was currently fucking, but apparently Sharon hadn’t gotten the memo. Katya certainly was not going to volunteer such snippets of information. Especially not now. It had been a long time since Katya had had the pleasure to engage in this kind of fun, too long time. Infuriating Phi Phi during All Stars 2 had been entertaining alright, but this had the potential of being exhilarating. She just needed to play her cards right.

“Seems self-explanatory to me,” Katya snorted with confidence and stared at Sharon, trying to look unimpressed.  “What do you want?”  
  
“Are you fucking her?” Sharon snarled against Katya’s jaw, scratching his teeth against her skin as he tightened his grip on her hair. Katya’s cock was starting to show interest.

“What if I am?” she asked, resisting the urge to grind her ass against Sharon’s crotch. The power-play was arousing, and while Katya had already come to the conclusion that there was potential for her to bottom tonight, she wasn’t willing to serve her ass to Sharon on a silver platter. Not when the man seemed perfectly happy to work for it.

“I want my share,” Sharon said and traced Katya’s jaw with his lips. “We used to share all the time.” Katya was sweaty after the show and Sharon caught a strong whiff of her testosterone-laden body odor. It went straight to his cock. _Maybe Alaska was onto something?_

“That’s not my decision,” Katya said, squirming.

“Not of her,” Sharon laughed and foisted her hand under Katya’s skirt. She wasn’t tucked. “You.”

Katya swallowed down the moan that threatened to escape from her lips. The same unidentified cologne Katya had come to associate with Sharon Needles clung to the air around them; not quite as contemporary as Issey Miyake or even Jean Paul Gaultier’s “Le Male”. _Pierre Cardin?_

“I don’t bottom,” Katya insisted and she was serious. She rarely did.

“Oh, but you do,” Sharon said and licked Katya’s neck while fondling her testicles over her panties. “Whores do what they’re paid to do.’  
  
The words made Katya halt. She didn’t know whether the comment was fuelled by alcohol, by Sharon’s jealousy, his anger or his need, but she knew that Sharon wasn’t the aggressive, abusive pig the words made him out to be. She examined his reflection in the mirror while appreciating the flat chest pressed against her back, the strong hold in her hair, the firm, confident hand under her skirt. She was positive Sharon would stop at the slightest sign of objection from her. _Please don’t stop._

“You’re angry,” she stated. It wasn’t a question. “Does it make you want to fuck me?”

The sexual charge in the room shifted from mere extant to almost oppressive after Katya’s words. Sharon yanked Katya’s panties down to bare her ass.

“Wait,” Katya exhaled, making Sharon meet her gaze in the mirror. “There’s a couch in the other dressing room.”

The husky cackle of Sharon Needles made Katya groan. _So hot._  
  
“Lead the way.”

Katya didn’t bother pulling her panties up as she walked across the dressing room. She opened the door and left it ajar for Sharon, who was admiring the view presented to him.

Sharon laid Katya on her back on the sofa and ran his tongue over her inner thighs, damp with sweat. When he got to her crotch, he removed the knickers, allowing Katya to move her legs apart. Scraping his teeth along her balls and ass, Sharon made Katya groan and finally gave a lick to her attentive cock. As Katya wiggled herself into position, Sharon took the cue, grabbed her ankles and pushed her legs high over her head. _So flexible_. He leaned into her with his hips as she opened up for him. _So hot_. Sharon listened Katya groan and squeal, muttering him instructions on how to move, and soon enough Sharon was coming, coating generously the insides of Katya.

Sharon pulled back carefully and took a seat at the other end of the sofa, lowering his head towards his chest, scratching his temple absentmindedly. He felt spent. How was it possible that one single video made him so wired-up? _Fucking Alaska._

Katya eyed the man in front of her and could feel his sperm dripping from her anus. Sharon looked confused but satisfied. Who wouldn’t after shooting a load into a colleague? She was still achingly hard and it looked like Sharon might need some serious incentive to finish her off. His mind seemed to have wandered somewhere far. Somewhere north. _Alaska_.

Katya stood carefully up on the sofa and straddled Sharon who seemed to pay her no attention. She looked down to the intoxicated man and gently foisted her right hand into the bleached hair. She grabbed it into a tight hold and then yanked Sharon’s head back forcefully. 

“We’re not done here,” she hissed, stepping closer. She took a firm hold at the base of her cock and pressed it against Sharon’s cheek.

“You’re going to suck me off, and you’re going to be brilliant at it,” she said firmly, knowing that Sharon could react to the words in multiple different ways but wanting him to yield, wanting him to grant her completion.  
  
For a moment Sharon stared at Katya in shock, having not expected such a change in their dynamic, but eventually an uneven smirk spread to his lips. He found Katya’s new attitude, if not intoxicating, then at least interesting -- _arousing_. A feeling that he had been played, and played well, settled within him. Slowly, never shying away from Katya’s gaze, he turned his head to lick the red, precum covered head of Katya’s cock. _Show me what you’ve got._ When Katya eventually came into his mouth and her salty spunk was dripping from his lips, he realised she’d never let go of his hair. She’d been in total control of the situation, the rhythm and the pace of their entire encounter, and he felt properly used, almost exploited. _Damn, girl._  

Katya stepped down from the sofa and stretched in satisfaction. She pulled her skirt lower on her hips to cover herself, grabbed her knickers from the floor and noticed Sharon’s wallet next to the sofa. She reached for it and under the inspecting eyes of Miss Sharon Needles, pulled out all of the cash. She rolled the pile into a neat bundle and stuffed it into her bra before flashing him a wide, toothy grin.  
  
“Thanks for the tip,” she drawled in a very Alaskan fashion and threw the empty wallet at Sharon before turning on her heels.  
  
Sharon watched Katya walk off in her sparkly, red stilettos, the short skirt barely covering her junk. He was left with no questions over why Alaska might fancy a Russian run-off-the-mill transvestite hooker. No questions what so ever. _Fucking Alaska.  
_


End file.
